Niña Pastori. Final show of the 'María' tour

Cantaora, like it or not

Silvia Calado Olivo. Madrid, November, 2002-11-20

'María'. Cante: Niña Pastori. Guitar: José Carlos Gómez. Guitar: Jusep Salvador. Percussion: Chaboli. Drums: Juan Carlos García. Bass: Martín. Keyboard: Germán. Chorus: Trini, Anabel, Toñi, Tere. Guest artist: Pastora García. Sala La Riviera. Madrid, November 16th, 2002. 9:00 p.m.

Sounds of Tomasito filled La Riviera in the discounted minutes... The two thousand or so not-only-adolescents who packed the place were already impatient. Booing and shouting they demanded the artist's presence even as many people were still waiting on line by the banks of the Manzanares river. No sooner did the stage light up than the wait was forgotten. The two thousand or so not-only-adolescents kicked in with 'El color del agua' when Niña Pastori barely stepped into sight. Clutching her ruffled dress, giving her all, she pulled off the prelude despite the breeziness of the song. Nor could she barely pronounce that "te quise a tiempo" when they had already guessed 'Quién te va a querer'. Which is why let her followers sing.

Succinctly backed up by a group with pop-rock airs, she handily took over the stage. Mike in hand, without leaving anyone out, she endeared herself to the audience letting loose with a little dance cheered on by the adoring public. She digressed with 'María' which has surpassed a hundred fifty thousand copies, to recuperate Jeros' version of 'Yo vivo navegando' included on 'Cañaílla' (BMG, 2000). The song overflowed with imposing good vibes, a quality surpassed by the superhit tanguillo 'Cartita de amor' from 'Eres Luz' (BMG, 1998), the popular "échame una mano, prima" so justifiably embellished by the chorus. Following the collective hysteria, the cantaora from La Isla toned down a bit with tangos, once again returning to her next to last recording. The girl reveled in her voice, filling out melodies and drawing them with fine brushstrokes. And the group followed her every step of the way, in tension, build-ups and sudden descent.

She tested the waters before "singing a little bulerías". Introduced by rhythm on the cajón by the great Chaboli (his time spent accompanying Joaquín Cortés did no harm), she went back to her last record with 'Dulce canela', a composition by the Seville dancer Farruquito. Two thousand people singing and clapping in rhythm to a bulería made by the most ardent defender of purity. Who's asking if it's flamenco? The audience reaction is incredible: some cry, others dance, everyone sings. And it's flamenco. A strut around the stage, 'toma que toma'.

The time-out for costume change was an example of how not to break the rhythm and ambience of a concert: an instrumental piece with a sense of continuity. The 'Niña' came back on turning her attention to 'Cai', the Alejandro Sanz theme also included in 'Cañaílla'. Overworked tear ducts and standing ovation. Almost without making allowances for nervous breakdowns, she picked up the pace and went into 'Aire de molino'. Collective passion. A little slower and following a considerably worthy musical intro, 'Válgame dios'. Everyone kept singing, cheering, applauding their girl. Sitting on the edge of the stage she struck up a conversation with the choral quartet: "Nananay naná naná". With searing strength and flawless interpretation, she took on 'Dime quién soy yo'. The cheers turned into football chants: 'Niña, niña! Guapa, guapa!' And the pretty girl, the 'niña guapa' began to cry. "I couldn't hold myself back. The song I just sang is the most special one". A little reflection about the close of the tour: "I've had a great time this summer making this record, now it's finishing up and this makes me feel sad. Thank you Madrid for giving me your affection, because this is important for anyone who goes up on stage". The fans shoot back: 'Tata-tata-tatá, Niña Pastori!'. And she takes a moment to introduce her people, makeup running down her face. Embraces, kisses, affection, thanks, sincerity.

María came on strong once again, now shorn of all stage niceties, with 'Amor de San Juan', the super-famous single. Clamoring audience. Keyboard and percussion, the cajón placed horizontally amongst the many drums, to announce 'Tú dime'. Pastori, the mother of the child, makes her appearance and Chaboli jumps up front to turn the chorus into rap. And they finish dancing together. Smashing success. Blessed by the mother of the child, the audience, of course, unanimously asks for more. Niña Pastori responds with bulerías, sitting next to her partner's soothing guitar: 'De mil colores'. Her voice stabs in the applauded first line. Very flamenco, very contained, just right in the tremolo. "I'm not leaving here tonight". And then she sang some credible fandangos "in this improvised chair that belongs to some dwarf". The cantaora sang: "planta de buen caballero, aquel gitano tenía, pasó por la vera mía y se quitó su sombrero, pa darme los buenos días" ['that gypsy looked like such a fine gentleman, he passed by my side and doffed his hat to say good morning']. Those same people who cry with the adolescent tangos, tanguillos, rumbas and bulerías from her records, also respect flamenco singing. And that's worth an 'ole'. Standing ovation for this privileged voice which still has plenty to say. Ancient, aged, moving, sweet...

The climax of the tour and the concert was worthy of any flamenco recital: fiesta por bulerías. Niña Pastori was the hostess: "Let's get the perpetrators up on stage. I think Sara Baras is out there... if you feel like doing a little dance". And the other girl from San Fernando came up. One danced, and then the other... in jeans, without ruffles but with plenty of heart. Everyone taking turns, little dances and songs, the mother of the child, the girl's partner, the girl herself... And the audience was at their feet. What better reference.

magazine@flamenco-world.com